Popcorn
by Polouchi
Summary: (Completely random title btw) Thirteen years after the events leading up to her abduction, Salla's mother shows her true form for the first time and the teenage girl leaves for a life of the streets.
1. It begins

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own. I was thinking anyway, if Mystique has so many sons and sort-of daughters anyway, what does more hurt? Hehehe.  
  
-------o(O)o-------  
  
That bitter yet delicious coffee smell awoke me from the depths of my slumber, in which I had been dreaming of a strange, kindly-faced bald-headed man talking at me in a language full of strange unknown words. It was a dream I had many times as a child, although by this point they were fading.   
  
I forced myself to sit up in the bed-and-breakfast bed and reached across to the little bedside table and slid my glasses on. The room focused and I could see my mother across the mildly filthy room with two steaming cups of hot coffee, one in each slender hand. With a smile, I reached out and took one of them.   
  
"Two sugars," she announced, nodding towards my cup. My smile continued. A small silence followed and a heavy feeling weighted the pit of my stomach as I watched the expression on her pale-skinned, freckly face so similar to my own turn from her usual small frown and smile to a concerned pout. I tilted my head slightly, taking a sip of the deliciously sweet beverage, and waited for her to speak. I didn't have to wait long. "Salla, I have to tell you something."   
  
"What?" I asked, feeling the dread increase threefold at her tone. I shuffled up further, flattening the overstuffed quilts with my free hand.   
  
"I promised myself I would tell you this when you reached thirteen, but I lost my nerve," she said, her hands twisting in knots in her lap. She had certainly waited long enough, it was three days until my sixteenth birthday. "When you were young, you... Well, you didn't live with me. You lived with Siannagh, your mother, and her friends."   
  
"So you're not my mother?" I exclaimed, spilling a splatter of coffee in surprise. I rubbed the stain absently with one hand while I waited for a response.   
  
"I am..." she took a deep breath. "I'm not what you see me as. Siannagh's dead now, at the hands of someone I knew. The day she died, I was the one to find her body and I took you before her friends could catch up with me."   
  
"I thought you said you were my mother," I said, my face contorting in confusion. "But then, I thought you said Siannagh was my mother too. I can't have two mothers. Who is my father?"   
  
"Technically, I am."   
  
I glanced down. She seemed to have all the necessary parts to be qualified as a woman, so I frowned again and looked up at her. "You're not..."   
  
"I was."   
  
I watched her doubtfully as she stood, apparently deciding that words would get her nowhere further than they had already got her. Before I could even register a movement, the shape of the mother I knew, a short, skinny pale woman with pale brown hair and freckles, plain faced but in my eyes beautiful, suddenly disappear with only the smallest of noises and in her place a strange, red-haired woman, tall and athletic, with dark blue skin and no details in her strange, absent looking eyes. I gasped and leapt out of my bed.   
  
"You told me you weren't a mutant," I said, my voice cold and bitter. My hand raised to my cheeks, where I knew two thick black lines ran, then up to my brow where a large silver horn about three inches long, twisted like a unicorn's, protruded unceremoniously. My mind wouldn't let me register this revelation - I had been so sure I was the only freak in the very compact family. Of course, my mum had never made me feel that way, but she had kept me away from prying eyes for reasons I completely understood. I couldn't fathom the surprise she had just thrown upon me. I reached behind me for my bag, still semi-packed as we had only been at this particular bed-and-breakfast for about a week. We once had a small flat on the suburbs of London, but we had been evicted through complaints from the neighbours of unknown specifications so we were forced to move about, staying in bed-and-breakfasts where the council chose to put us until they could find us a proper home.   
  
I pulled out my favourite outfit - a long denim skirt with a frayed bottom, a pale baby pink strappy top and plain black sandals, then threw on my long, deep red coat with black fake fur edges. Throughout this, the blue woman who had been my mother a second before didn't move. Her features were like ice, full of frosty hard coldness. Such a change had occurred that I was almost frightened.   
  
"Where are you going?" she asked as I lugged my bag behind me on my way to the door. Her English accent had obviously been faked, as it changed to an American one. As I replied, my own accent sounded stupid and unreal because of it.   
  
"I'm leaving," I said.   
  
"You can't leave," she replied, and it took me a moment to notice the look of panic that spread over her. "You've got a horn. They'll take you and lock you up without a second thought."   
  
I wished so hard that moment, so incredibly hard that my horn would disappear that my head actually hurt from the effort. I imagined myself, tall and willowy as I was with my long pale ginger hair to my shoulders, curling, the fringe free to grow without obstruction from my ugly horn. I imagined my skin free of blemish; most teenagers only had to put up with spots that could be treated eventually with creams and medicine but I was forced to live with a visible mutation that there was no cure for.   
  
I heard a sharp intake of breath and opened my eyes, unaware that I had closed them in the first place. Her expressionless eyes were focussed upon my forehead, so getting a deep feeling of trepidation I made my way to the little mirror above the off-white sink. What I saw nearly caused me to topple over.   
  
"It's gone!" I cried. Where my horn had been was a small birthmark-like spot, pale pink and barely noticeable. I leaned in closer to the mirror as if getting closer would reveal that it was a trick, that I hadn't lost the most annoying feature of my body. When my tilted head touched the cold surface of the mirror without obstruction, my eyes filled with tears and I turned around. "What did you do?"   
  
"I didn't do anything," she promised, and I could hear the sincerity in her strange new voice. Of course, I couldn't trust her, as she had lied to me for my whole life as far as I knew, but I couldn't deny that this was the truth.   
  
"Then what happened?" I asked her, though I already knew the answer. She understood that question was more for myself than her, so she declined to reply. My eyes lowered. "I thought my power had already shown itself."   
  
Ever since I could remember, I had been a perfect mimic for anything. My mother explained how it is unusual for such a power to appear at the young age I was, but stressful circumstances had drawn them out. Now, under another pile of panic, the hidden aspect of my mutation appeared to be itself. It made me wonder what else was to come, but at the same time I knew nothing would.   
  
"That is strange," the woman I once knew commented. "Your power is not unlike mine."   
  
"Is that unusual?"   
  
"My son's power was completely unrelated from mine, apart from the blue skin," she admitted. She seemed to know she'd dropped yet another bombshell and swore unceremoniously.   
  
"You're kidding me. I have a brother?!" I cried. She nodded, averting eye contact. My eyes narrowed. "Who are you? I mean, really. Don't spill that rubbish about being Jenny Darkholme, who are you really?"   
  
"I am Darkholme, but my first name is Raven," she said. "Before I moved here with you to England, most people knew me as Mystique."   
  
"What, were you in some sort of cult or something?" I spat, feeling angry that I had been so deceived. She gave me a serious look, and her glare was so intense I had to look away. "It's a reasonable question," I continued.   
  
"No, it isn't reasonable, and I wasn't in a cult. It is my mutant name. I worked for a mutant called Magneto for a while. Your other mother... Well, she wasn't on the same side as me. It was one of the boys who were in the Brotherhood, which at one point I ran, who killed her."   
  
"You told me my father died in a plane crash."   
  
"You know, its more likely to die from a cork hitting you on the head than in a plane crash."   
  
"What's that got to do with anything?"   
  
"Nothing..." she said. "Only, perhaps you should think about being a bit less trusting."   
  
I narrowed my eyes again. "How do I even know that you are my mother? Do you have any proof?"   
  
"You'll just have to trust me."   
  
"Yeah, like that's gonna happen," I scoffed. With a fluid motion, I swung my bag over my shoulder and began to unlock the door. "Have a nice life."   
  
"Don't you want to know your past?"   
  
"No, thanks, I'd like to be able to eat for the next year," I said, putting as much venom into it as possible. My head wasn't clear - if I had thought about it, I woud have stayed to listen before leaving. As it was, I left without another word and to my surprise the woman 'Mystique' didn't follow me.   
  
Of course, upon reaching the cold autumn air outside, I saw my mistake. 


	2. Silly Girl

Disclaimer: Large on the non-ownyness.  
  
------o(O)o------  
  
Well, as people say, I was buggered. The night was cold as I left the B&B, and despite my newfound talent of changing my face (and other body parts, although I didn't know that then) I couldn't work out how to change myself to keep warm. The only possible way I could think of surviving without the woman I had known to be my loving, doting mother was to find somewhere else to go.  
  
I didn't have any other relatives. My mother – Mystique – had never mentioned any, even when I asked. I had always presumed something had happened to separate her from them, probably me, but now I knew better. I thought about going to the police, but I now knew that my mother was an excellent liar so they'd have me back at her house before I could even object.  
  
I thought about what homeless people did to survive, but every option of theirs seemed blocked from me by my morals and views of society. I knew that there were a couple of mutant 'clubs' and cults but I was unsure about my own safety among people who would quite possibly know of me, if Mystique alerted them. I couldn't decide what to do, but every second grated on my skin, urging me to leave the area. I had no idea what the person my mother had changed in to could or would do, and this was frightening me more than if I knew. Would she follow me? Would she take someone else's form and try to convince me to return? Would she harm me? Or would she just leave and return to her little freak show?  
  
The first day of my 'freedom', I didn't stop. I spent hours looking for a place to stay, a little house or another B&B, but every time someone opened the door they slammed it again. No one loves a runaway, and it was obvious that's what I was. I constantly got told to go back home to my mummy and daddy in patronising tones that caused tears to well up in my tired eyes.  
  
By the time night arrived, sneaking up quickly on me, I was frantic. I had never been without a good bed and I hadn't thought to pack my sleeping bag, so I knew what would happen. I'd become like one of those kids I always avoided in the streets, the ones with scruffy clothes, huddled in small, thin blankets of varying patterns with a little box beside me for spare change. They had always frightened me, looking hopefully up at me with large, deer like eyes, their hair tangled and matted. The adults seemed not to see them. Perhaps the guilt was too overwhelming for them.  
  
I knew there should be a youth shelter of some sort around, but I had never thought to ask, so with a grumblingly hungry belly and a dazed head, I found a small back alley and hid behind one of the bins, trying hard to ignore the horrible stench. I didn't want to be exposed in the streets. I wanted to hide, to hide so that no one could find me.  
  
However, in only an hour or so I was given the fright of my life. I was nearly drifting to sleep after a while of lying wide-eyed, stuck in my thoughts, when I heard a strange noise that dragged me back into consciousness. It wasn't a pleasant noise; it was kind of like an ominous clipping sound of stiletto heels, but irregular. I risked a little glance and saw a drunken woman tottering along, pausing to look confused. She had obviously taken a wrong turning, but before she could turn back, a tall dark haired man blocked the entrance to the alley. I tensed, slowing my breathing to make minimal noise, as he drew a sharp penknife and pounced on her. She tried to scream, but her mouth became smothered in his grimy hands. I moved back against the wall as far as I could go, my eyes closed and my fingers in my ears.  
  
It didn't help. The sounds reverberated around the alley, and tears streamed mercilessly down my cheeks as I realised just what I'd got myself into. I could be that girl; she didn't seem that much older than me. I could be caught unawares at night, held against my will as a man used me then left in the pain and destruction remaining.  
  
I didn't want to be raped. I didn't want to feel that pain. I thought of my body as my own, and even in simple matters like cuddles and linking arms with friends I felt slightly off centre, as if they were invading my personal space. I wasn't a huggy person.  
  
When I was sure the man had left, I stood up from behind my hiding place and carefully approached the weeping lady. She flinched as I knelt next to her – she was huddled on the floor, her arms around her knees and her eyes downcast. She was bleeding on her chest and stomach and there were rough blue bruises on her arms where he had grabbed her.   
  
"Are you alright?" I asked, hating the question the moment it left my lips. "I mean, would you like me to get you some help?"  
  
She shook her head frantically. "No. No, I'm… I'm alright."  
  
"You should get help."  
  
"Why do you care?" she spat. "You just came out from behind that bin, and I didn't see you go there. You were there the whole time; just let it happen without trying to stop him. Why didn't you stop him from… doing that to me?"  
  
I withdrew, straightening up guiltily. I quickly gathered my stuff and rushed away, wondering why I hadn't moved when the horrible act had occurred? I had been frozen in shock, I told myself. If I had moved I would have been killed. He would have done it to me too.  
  
None of these reasons made sense to me, in some weird way, so I blocked it as far from my mind as possible.  
  
For the next three days, I didn't sleep.  
  
------o(O)o-------  
  
I could already feel the nights getting colder. I was sat on a bench near a little river, too disgusted with myself to move, too hungry to speak and too thirsty to think. I was like an empty shell. It wouldn't have been half as bad as it felt if I hadn't got the major epic battle going on inside my emotions.  
  
I had tried looking for food, and had managed to find enough money in my purse to buy a few bottles of water and a sandwich, but now I was completely devoid of cash. I had considered selling something, but all I really had were some clothes and the bracelet my best friend Tara had once given me when we were seven, before she died in a car crash. I was certainly not selling that, even if it had started digging into my skin because it was too small. It probably wasn't worth much anyway. It was just a strand of gold, a strand of silver and a strand of bronze platted into a pretty knot with a pink flower on top. The thought of selling it had occurred to me on more than one separate occasion but I couldn't bear to be parted with it, silly as that sounds.  
  
Lost in my thoughts and hunger, I didn't even notice someone approaching until they were beside me. I turned my head sharply, and saw a young-looking girl with her blonde hair elegantly wrapped into a complicated knot, her green eyes shining through small, square-framed glasses and her slender yet rather curvy body clothed in a simple pair of flattering dark blue jeans and a little grey top. Her facial features were kindly and soft, with a slightly upturned nose and curved lips. From her exposed ears, two silver hoops hung. They were red with the sharp breeze, as were her cheeks - although that could have been blusher.  
  
"You all right?" she asked me, and I was stunned and worried to hear the Americanised accent from her. She frowned in confusion as I pushed myself forcefully to my feet and glared at her with narrowed eyes, suspicious. "Hey, chill," she smiled.  
  
"Get away from me," I hissed, convinced that she was Mystique trying to find me. It was an unreasonable fierceness; what would come of it? I would only be spooked and accuse every person around of being the evil bitch that had created half of me. I quickly softened my tone, but was still in a defensive stance. "Who are you?"  
  
"You're hungry," she stated, not answering my question. A bad sign if ever I saw one, but I wasn't thinking straight; as she had just said, I was hungry. I nodded, and she held out her hand. Each nail was painted immaculately in silver varnish and in the centre of them were tiny white gemstones. They seemed to me to be friendly hands, but I didn't move immediately. She twitched her hand slightly. "Come on. I'll take you and get you some food."  
  
It didn't cross my mind to check the price for such a simple thing. 


	3. Well that wasn't clever

Disclaimer: I don't own it, don't kill me.  
  
-------o(O)o------  
  
"My name is Jessica," she told me as we sat down on the hard, metal chairs of a trendy nearby restaurant. I didn't feel in place - I had lost my deodorant and while I had some hand wash the only water I could find was either my potential drinking water or so dirty it wouldn't have made a difference. You'd think that civilisation had never hit my part of the country from the state of it all. She smiled at me, trying to put me at ease, while she ordered me some posh sounding meal. As she nodded her thanks to the smartly dressed waiter, she added, "but you can call me Jess."  
  
I didn't reply. In fact, since I had taken her hand and followed her, I hadn't uttered a word. I had pulled a hair band off of my wrist and tugged my unruly hair into a messy ponytail, but that had been the extent of my actions.  
  
"Not a talkative girly, are you?" she said, in my mind pointing out the obvious. I just stared at her. To my astonishment, she returned the eye contact with equal vigour and for the first time, I felt a strange bubble rise in my stomach. She was the first person to give me genuine eye contact for more than a second for the span of my homelessness, excluding the poor girl on the first night and that was most definitely not a nice look. She seemed to understand from my eyes that talking wasn't something to happen at that moment, and leaned back slightly.  
  
The meal in front of me was there before I registered it, so lost in my complete lack of thoughts was I. It was a plate of ravioli, pale and pasty looking with crinkly edges and a thick red sauce. I didn't want to seem rude or too eager, so for a couple of seconds I just watched it vigilantly as if it would sprout legs and run away if I didn't and sipped the cold water in the slender glass.  
  
"You can eat," she said, picking up her own fork in her highly cared for hands. I glanced at my own filthy, bitten nails and brushed them against my top in shame. She didn't notice. When I saw her take the first bite, I couldn't resist any more and dived into the meal as if it were lifesaving. The delicious taste reminded me of the heat, for some reason, and I warmed as I dug my way through it.  
  
I finished before Jess, my stomach still growling. I busied myself with the bread in the basket on the table, mopping up the remainders of the sauce, until she smiled and handed me her own plate. "I'm not hungry anymore," she explained, and I ate without question. It tasted slightly odd, but I put that down to the fact I had burnt my tongue mildly at my first bite and continued.   
  
My stomach lurched suddenly and without warning only seconds after finishing. My eyes widened and I clasped my fists against my stomach, which felt surprisingly similar to having someone sit on it. Jess looked at me in worry.  
  
"Are you alright?" she asked softly, looking around the restaurant as if in embarrassment at the spectacle I was creating. I shook my head rapidly, and then had to slow the movement as if caused a strange heavy dizziness to my mind. She stood up, her chair scraping loudly. "Come on, I'll take you somewhere quieter."  
  
"No," I whispered. She shrugged and started walking, pausing on the way to pay the bill. Before I knew what was happening, however, my feet began to follow her of their own accord.  
  
-------o(O)o-------  
  
She led me through the cold streets to a tiny ground floor flat about five minutes away from where she had found me. Somehow, from her appearance, I had expected something more, well, large but as I stepped inside I saw the true meaning of 'size doesn't matter'. It was the most amazing place I had ever to that point seen. The walls were black with a silver border at the top, bottom and middle; all the furniture were in varying shades of grey, white and silver; there was a flat screen computer in the corner with a picture of some famous celebrity as the wallpaper and the carpet was such a deep grey I could almost not distinguish it from the walls. And that was just the living room. She showed me into the bathroom, which was reversed; the walls were silver and the toilet and bathtub were jet black. The sink looked a bit out of place, as it was plain ivory white, and that was what she led me too.   
  
"I think you might have food poisoning from that pasta. We should sue."  
  
"Why?" I managed to ask, but she didn't reply.   
  
With the aid of a refreshing glass of tap water, I dampened my dry throat. It took a couple of minutes, but they seemed to be fast working, as after ten minutes or so of drinking water and sitting on the loo with the toilet seat down while Jess waited, I was feeling wonderful - beyond wonderful. I grinned widely, and wondered vaguely why things were slightly clearer than before. My eyes drooped as my muscles relaxed.   
  
"Do you want to sit down?" she asked me after a second of watching me. I looked at her, and my grin widened.  
  
"Yes," I announced, my voice full of random certainty. She smiled, her lips curving upwards even further than before, and led me into the living room with her hand on my shoulder. I sat on one of the seats, it being amazingly comfortable as I seem to remember. I slumped in it, folding my legs beside me and crossing my arms loosely in front of my chest. She sat opposite me. "My name is Salla," I announced unexpectedly. She smiled.  
  
"Well, Salla, I'm glad you're feeling better now."  
  
Something in my mind, the only small part that still had sense, warned me that I there had been something in one of the items she had given me but I was far too happy and relaxed to care. Her smile was unwavering.  
  
"We should get you all clean," she said suddenly. "How about you have a little wash?"  
  
"Good idea, Captain Jessica!" I giggled. She sighed in amusement and shook her head.  
  
------o(O)o------  
  
In an hour or so, we both returned to the living room. I should have been creeped out that a woman had just stood and helped me in a shower, but in my current state I had convinced myself that she was doing it to be kind so that I wouldn't slip and break a bone, or spill blood over her amazing rooms. It made sense at the time, which questions the sanity I was partaking in at that moment.  
  
I was wrapped in a really warm, fluffy and soft white dressing gown with a hood draped behind me. My hair was ruffled and tied into a ponytail to keep the wet strands from my face as I waited for it to dry naturally.   
  
"Would you like to stay here for a while, Salla?" she asked eventually, after - to me at least - a comfortable silence. I was almost annoyed that she had disturbed it. "For a little while. Until you find somewhere else to sleep. I can sleep on the sofa, you can have my bed."  
  
"Well if you really don't mind," I said, deciding that if I argued and left then I'd be a little bit of a state again. "I'll stay. But I'll sleep on the sofa if you like."  
  
"No, nothing but the best for my guests."  
  
"I insist."  
  
"Me too."  
  
"Fine! Fine. I'll have the bloody bed. Honestly, women!"  
  
"…You're a woman."  
  
"I'm a *young* woman," I beamed, and she grinned back. After extracting a bundle of quilt covers and pillows for her sofa home and a nightie with a huge love heart on the chest for me, she positively forced me from the room. "Goodnight!" I called, flopping on the soft, very fluffy bed with a satisfied grin. I didn't even bother getting under the covers. 


	4. Let me Entertain you

Disclaimer: I do not own thou most holiness. Ah well, there's always my next incarnation.  
  
----------o(O)o---------  
  
The next morning, I awoke with groggy eyes to the gentle sound of some form of pop music radiating from the living room. After a couple of minutes laying still in a vain attempt to fall back to sleep, I realised where I was and sat bolt upright.   
  
I was almost surprised to find I wasn't tied to the bed or something, and glad that I felt no pain in my body. This, however, made me more suspicious - now that my mind was clear, I could see the strangeness of what had happened the night before. Why had I been so happy and relaxed? It certainly wasn't my usual nature. I resolved to question Jess as soon as I saw her.  
  
I couldn't find my clothes, so I had no choice but to stay in my nighty for the time being as I marched fiercely through the house looking for the woman. To my utter surprise, there was no one home. The music had obviously been left on as a sort of comfort to me for when I awoke, but in this atmosphere it seemed almost scary. I staked out the source of the noise and pressed the big, shiny silver button labelled 'off' on the front of the expensive CD player.  
  
I couldn't leave in my nighty, so with a determined glare at nothing in particular I found my back into the room I had slept in. It was strangely drab, in ordinary colours with ordinary furniture. The bed wasn't made, of course. The curtains were shut, but when I opened them the view I was treated to was a rubbish truck picking up the week's leftovers. They were pulled closed again.  
  
When I opened the cupboard door, I realised with dismay that none of the clothes would even think about fitting me. Jess was a lot taller, skinnier and more top-heavy than me, so they'd be too tight in some places and too loose in others. I stepped back, holding up a bright green top with a black design on the front. I puffed up my chest, standing sideways on to the mirror, trying to work out if I would fit into it. It was a no-go. With a dejected sigh, I went to put the top down - then froze halfway.   
  
In the milliseconds that tiny action took me, my chest had grown. It gave a whole new meaning to rapid growth - they were now as large as Jess'. In the same instant, I seemed to have shed a couple of pounds. It took me a moment to remember the reason for this - it had to be the same thing that caused my horn to disappear. I hadn't given it much thought since then, the whole thing overshadowed by my misery, but now a grin spread across my face as I realised the possibilities. I began to lift my nighty over my head, when a noise at the front door stopped me. I shoved the top back into the cupboard and ran to the bed. I had just replaced myself under the covers when I heard a high shout.  
  
"Salla?"   
  
"Yeah?" I replied, sitting up. Jess walked into the room, dressed in a plain black skirt, a baby pink top and impossibly high shoes. I smiled nervously at her. "Yes?" I repeated.  
  
"You feeling better today?" she asked, stepping closer. I saw with mild amusement that her ankles wobbled slightly from the enormous height. I nodded. "Good, because I have a lot planned for today. Would you like some food? Or drink?"  
  
"No thank you," I said quickly. "I'm not hungry."  
  
"Oh, you must be! You have to have breakfast, it's the most important meal of the day. You'll not be up to much if you don't," she said, a lecture I had heard before after falling asleep in my lessons at school a few years ago. "Have a croissant. I insist."  
  
What harm could a croissant do? I smiled and stepped out of my bed, wrapping my arms around my chest as I realised with horror that my body still had the rather over the top chest for my size. She took it for shyness, something I possessed a lot of as it were. When she turned to lead me into the kitchen, I dropped my arms and concentrated - within a second, my body was back to normal. I checked in the mirror, just in case my horn and stripes had decided to join me again. They hadn't.  
  
"Come on!" she called.  
  
------o(O)o------  
  
The day passed quickly and without much interest. She took me to town to buy me new clothes after forcing me to put on a baggy t-shirt she found and a one-size-fits-all stretchy denim skirt. I felt like an idiot, but wasn't about to say anything.  
  
I returned to her flat with bags full of stuff. I had no idea at that point how she got that much money, especially as she had told me that she was currently unemployed. Perhaps she was the sole heir of some rich man somewhere who'd recently kicked the proverbial bucket.  
  
When we had eaten, I glanced at the clock. It was ten to seven and the sun was already nearly completely set. I saw Jess watching me again, and I glanced at the cup of water I had just drained. A spark of suspicion flared inside me as I sat down on the chair I had relaxed into the night before.  
  
"There's someone coming over tonight, and I want you to entertain him," she said, her voice calm and cool, but I heard a little quiver somewhere in it that showed that she wasn't looking forward to asking this. "Its kind of payment for letting you stay here."  
  
"What sort of entertaining?" I asked, suspicious. "And who is he? If you want payment, I'm gonna leave. Money, I could do, somehow. Anything else just ain't gonna happen."  
  
She fell silent for a moment or two, and I suddenly wondered why I was so worked up about it. Hey, I could even make a new phone. I felt my muscles relax, starting at my toes and ending with my frown, leaving me with a happy, warm buzz. I shrugged.  
  
"He's a bit older than you," she finally replied upon seeing my posture change dramatically. "He's visiting. You can entertain him however you please, and I'll be out. I have to see someone."  
  
"Oh, fine," I sighed, smiling faintly. "I don't mind. Could be fun!"  
  
"Just the attitude I look for. Sit tight, I'll fetch him now." 


	5. Oops

Disclaimer: Oh, read the last ones.  
  
----------o(O)o----------  
  
I had been crying myself to sleep for a fortnight by the time I worked up the courage to confront Jess. I remembered every disgusting detail of the man she'd had me 'entertain', everything from his short, grey hair with a snow storm of dandruff to the putrid sour smell on his breath. Although his clothes had looked smart and highly priced, they were worn and smelt of that musty smell found in charity shops. It hadn't just happened once, either - for the three nights after that, she had brought him back to the house. Each time I refused, each time I gave in. On the fifth night in a row including the first time, I had slapped him hard enough to leave finger-marks on his crinkled face. He hadn't returned since, and Jess had fumed at me for a couple of days.  
  
"He paid well," she had told me. "He liked you."  
  
Now, I sat upon the sofa in an uncomfortable position, itching to leave the building but knowing I would be caught. Jess was due home any moment and I remember promising her to be a 'good girl' for the next week at least so she could buy me a present. In other words, she had found another customer.  
  
I glanced at the phone but knew I wouldn't be able to call anyone without her knowing. On more than one occasion I had suspected her of keeping an eye on me somehow while she was out. It wouldn't surprise me. Although she was still kind and gentle towards me, if I said something wrong or looked too unhappy she would get an angry glint in her eye and storm out of the room. She scared me so much.  
  
The shaking I was participating in while waiting for her to return proved that. I could hear her nearby, and cowered further into myself as I waited.  
  
----------o(O)o----------  
  
"HOW DARE YOU?!" she screamed at me, an inch away from my ear as I stood with my back against the wall. The light switch dug awkwardly into my back. She took a deep breath and attempted to calm herself. "How can you even suggest leaving me now? I've been nice to you, I've fed you and given you nice things…"  
  
"I'm not sleeping with any man you bring to me," I informed her, my voice sounding more confident than my mind was. "I'll leave, you can't keep me here."  
  
"I bloody well can," she spat. The fury in her face was obvious. So, this was what happened when a girl being held pretty much against her will and sold to men frequently asked to leave. "You gonna go back to the streets? You'll get raped, beaten up, killed."  
  
"I won't," I replied defiantly. "You can't keep me here. You can try, but you can't."  
  
It sounded like somebody else talking. How had a plucked up the courage to do this? I would never have dreamt of talking back to anyone a month ago. Of course, circumstances had changed dramatically. I felt powerful, a whole new person, as clichéd at that sounds. It was as though I had changed as easily in nature as in my body shape.   
  
"I'll pay you some of the money," she said, her voice a lot quieter now. "You can have a third, no half of the money I get from the man. You can have a new outfit every week with the money, and I'll buy all your favourite foods all the time. I promise. Would you rather put up with that or live a life on the streets?"  
  
"I don't know," I said, my new me quivering in temptation. The old me was bought already. "I don't want to have to…you know… It's degrading."  
  
"You can use the posh bed," she continued, her long string of promises threatening to break my resolve. "I'll make sure its safe, and I'll even cancel tonight's appointment if you want."  
  
"Alright," I said, without thinking. I was mentally exhausted from trying to convince myself to just leave without asking any more permission. My mouth dropped open ever so slightly in surprise at my acceptance and Jess was so close to me I could taste the flavour of her perfume on the tip of my tongue.   
  
I felt a slender, well-manicured finger trail softly down my cheek and stared at her. She was smiling kindly. "You're sweet," she announced.   
  
"Thank you," I muttered, my mind a blur once again. I was just about to move away, to make my way to the bathroom for a shower, when I heard Jess' breath catch in her throat.   
  
A bubble of dread settled in my stomach as I felt something familiar re-emerge from my forehead. My cheeks tingled. The terror radiating from Jess threatened to overwhelm me.  
  
"What…is…that?"   
  
My fingertips reached and grazed the smooth surface of my horn. So it had chosen the moment to come back. I had hoped it had gone permanently. I looked down at the ground and felt the colour drain from my face in horror.  
  
"You freak," she spat. "What the hell is that horn there for? You some kind of weirdo? Is it real?"  
  
My head was pulled forward painfully as she gripped at it and tried to pull it off. A tear hovered ominously at my eye. "Let it go," I pleaded, half-whispering. She did, and stepped back.  
  
"FREAK!" she screamed. "Get out of my house. Now. No matter how good you are, I am not having a freak in my home!  
  
"Jess - please -"  
  
"No. Get out! You wanted to a minute ago, what the hell is wrong with you? Get out before I throw you out!"  
  
"I can make it go away."  
  
"That makes no odds," she replied swiftly. She pulled out her swiss army knife I had seen her use on more than on occasion and flicked out a sharp blade. I cringed away from her, further against the wall. "I should phone the police. I should get them here to lock you up away from the people. You got a tail too, unicorn girl?"  
  
"No…"  
  
"GET OUT!"  
  
I decided that I was being stupid staying where I was with an angry girl and a knife beginning to advance on me. I pushed past her and fled into the street. 


End file.
